The Secret
by HaraKumiko
Summary: Memories don't like to be cast aside. Five years after Worth found Hanna running from this memory, a secret from Hanna's past starts to resurface, throwing both Hanna and his makeshift gang into a nightmare. Rating with change in the future.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So, I made myself promise not to post this until I finished Playing With Danger, since three freaking stories at once would burn me out. Nice to know how much promises to myself count, eh?  
So, this is basically what it says on the tin: a crossover (I think) with Stephen King's It, which is a pretty amazing book if you get past the sex and swearing and ridiculously strong language. It's way different from the mini-series with Tim Curry, so I suggest you read it, even though it's like 1138 pages.

* * *

_It was one of the most dreary nights Worth would ever experience._

_At exactly 2:19 in the morning, the city was sparkling with the moist sheen of the steady rain that had plagued practically the entire state, and Luce Worth had gotten tired of waiting: waiting for patients that had nowhere else to go, waiting for _something_ to relieve him of his incredible boredom.  
At exactly 2:19 in the morning, Worth opened the door of his office, pushing his fur-lined coat back to dig in his pockets. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered under his breath, finally producing a carton of cigarettes in his nimble fingers. As he made his way to the sidewalk outside of the alley, he also retrieved a box of matches._

_Impatiently, he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and, despite the moisture of the air and the warm drops of water dampening his coat and hair, tried to light it. "C'mon," he growled under his breath, irritation creeping in through his boredom and exhaustion. He finally managed to get the cigarette lit, and took a grateful drag of smoke with a sigh._

_A crashing behind him had him nearly jump out of his skin, whirling around with eyes wide. "Who's there?" he yelled, his cigarette nearly dropping from his mouth; he quickly became conscious of this and found it wise to take it between his fingers.  
Rustling and a wheezing cough was his only answer. Knowing the sound of injury when he heard it - _many years later, he thinks back to this and laugh at how compassionate he had been - _he cautiously made his way towards the sound, his brown shoes both clicking and squeaking on the concrete beneath him. "Hello?" he called again, his heart thudding in his ears as he came to a collection of trash cans, looking around them to see -_

_A boy. If he could even be called that. Skinny to the point of looking anorexic, damp and dark red hair that fell in curly flops around his large ears, making his skin look almost as white as chalk. He was wheezing and whimpering, curling up into a ball. His feet were bare, his clothing ripped... and was that _blood_?  
Worth froze, looking down at the boy as if he was a part of a black and white movie with no sound. "Holy... are you al-"  
The boy shrieked at the sound of a voice, curling up even tighter and clutching at his ears. "NO NO _NO_ LEAVE ME _ALONE_ I -"  
Worth knelt down and grabbed the kid by his broad shoulders, wincing at the lack of muscle between his skin and bones. "Hey! _Hey_!" While the boy continued to bawl frantically, Worth finally snapped, forcefully slamming his open palm into the boy's cheek._

_Stunned, he silenced, looking up with the most vibrant blue eyes Worth had ever seen. "Wh-wh... huh? You're...?" Before he could even finish comprehending what was happening, the boy started coughing hackingly into a fist.  
Worth, unsure of what to do, reached for his cell phone in his back pocket. Flipping it open, he never took his eyes off of the boy in front of him as he hit speed dial and held it to his ear. Before the receiving end of the call could even utter a tired "Hello?", Worth was snapping, "Lamont. Get'cher ass over here." Offering no explanation, he carefully took the boy in his arms and, his cigarette forgotten on the wet cement, made his way back into his office.  
As calmly as a man in panic could, he took the boy's limp form_  
(jesus, this kid weighed next to nothing, how was he still alive?)_  
to the back room, where an empty gurney awaited them. The boy only whimpered when he was placed onto the metal, eyes rolling back to the whites for a good second at the sudden temperature change. Worth, uncharacteristically hesitant, watched over him until the kid's eyes blinked back to normal before leaving the room to fetch a pillow and blankets._

_Lamont arrived a few minutes later, disheveled and annoyed. "This had better be important, Luce," he said drowsily, black hair even curlier than normal from the moisture outside.  
"It is." A grim smile on his face, he led Lamont to the back room, and any sign of doubt in his companion's face disappeared at the sight of Worth's new patient.  
"Holy shit," he breathed, eyes widening despite the awkward bandage above one eyebrow.  
"He hasn't said anythin' I can understand," Worth informed, crossing over to move some of the clutter on the medical tray at the head of the gurney.  
"Where'd you find him? He looks like Death frozen over."  
"Outside, behind the trash cans. Somethin' spooked him, I think."_

_The boy started to mutter under his breath, and the two older men exchanged glances before huddling around him. "Wot?"  
More mumbling, but this time, Worth could make out basic words. "Y'gotta speak up."  
Lamont spoke next, his voice gently and subtly scared. "What happened to you?"_

_The boy struggled with his next few words, but when he finally managed to choke something out, his expression was so terrifying that the both of them still lost sleep over it; eyes wide, bloodshot, like he had just seen the coming of the end as he said:_

_"_It_."_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So, this story's going to be really weird for me, because the entirety of it is written in present tense unless it's a flashback. But, anyways. Here you go!

* * *

The air is stuffy when Hanna shoots up like a rocket in his bed on the floor, eyes wide in terror and confusion and a small but audible gasp escaping his throat. Through the tiniest window to ever exist, light is starting to shine through, casting a warm hue over the dismally small room.  
Intense blue eyes scan the clutter of books and papers, spotting his laptop in the far corner._ How did that get _there_? _he wonders, already knowing the answer: _Lionel moved it._  
Lionel, as he was currently being called in the redhead's mind, is absent from the room, but judging by the smell of eggs wafting in from the kitchen slash living room, he is making breakfast. Hanna is certain that if anyone ever found out that a zombie made him food, they would panic and shriek about how unsanitary and unhealthy it was.

But they didn't know Lionel - who, Hanna decides, is now named Fernando. Unlike most others of the undead persuasion, Fernando was far from unsanitary. In fact, the only giveaway of his deceased nature was through his appearance; green skin, glowing red eyes, and the occasional lines of stitching were the only real things that made him stick out in a crowd.

Hanna sighs, laying back and closing his eyes against the warm mattress beneath him. Part of him just wants to fall back asleep; the idea is tempting enough that he actually lets his mind start to drift, and he's just halfway to unconsciousness when the door creaks open and a low, gentle voice inquisitively calls out his name.  
He groans, opening one eye to see his undead companion watching him unblinkingly - something he's almost completely used to. "Hnuuh?"  
"You should get up now, if you want time to eat before you have to go to work."  
Hanna's mind goes blank, and he bolts upright after a second. This repeat of his earlier awakening finishes the job of getting him completely aware of what time it is. "Shit! I have to work today?"

Fernando watches as Hanna, in true Hanna Cross fashion, stands up from his bed and moves around the room with the speed of a fighter jet, throwing on his uniform and pulling on his shoes with a grace that shows that it's his second nature to be late.  
He takes a simple step back to allow the frail redhead passage through the door and into the living room. The television is on and set to the news, courtesy of their stolen cable, and the anchorman is reciting news about no leads in the murder of a body found in the Ives Theater, identified as Lee Falun. Fernando dimly wonders if Veser, the half-Selkie they helped at that very same theater, is watching the news and balling his fists in fury before classes start.  
"I swear, I have no idea how I survived before you came along, Galahad," Hanna says, although through the eggs he's shoveling down, it sounds more like a muffled cluster of nonsense. The small smile Galahad allows to reach his face is noticed with a dramatic gasp and a tick on a mental tally board.  
Hanna, being done and throwing on his jacket before his brain can even register that the void in his stomach is no longer empty, says, "Okay, so I work until five, which is about when the sun goes down, so I'm thinking we can go visit Conman and Veser when I get home. By the way, no offense or anything, but could you blink? You haven't blinked once since I got up, and it's kinda creeping me out."  
Galahad, at the request, realizes that Hanna's observation is right, and gives an unnecessary blink of the eyes. "None taken. It sounds like a plan."  
"Don't get in too much trouble."

As the door closes, Galahad stares at the wooden slab for a good minute while he thinks, _Shouldn't _I_ be saying that to _you_?_

In the now quiet apartment, he begins to clean up the remains of a one-man breakfast and muses about his plans for the day. The news, now flashing through the weather, cheerfully informs him that the day will be sunny at first, but storms were expected by the late afternoon. It looks like he'll be spending most of this day cleaning the apartment.  
He goes back to the room they share, which doubles as an office, and looks out that tiny window. The sun is indeed shining, but over the tall buildings and on the horizon, he can see a line of storm clouds. Part of him entertains the notion that it's a premonition, the use of foreshadowing in their pathetically average lives.

Little does he know, is that he is absolutely right.

**{}{}{}**

Hanna isn't sure why he takes the long way to work; he's already running kind of late, and he had stared in the direction of his shortcut for a good few minutes earlier, but something in his mind told him to take the long way. And so there he is, walking through the center of the city in his work outfit and watching the cozy liveliness of the day crowd.  
The day crowd, as he referred to it, is nice enough, but busy; burnt-out parents going off to burn themselves out some more at some kind of job, or dropping off kids at school so they can finally get some rest and relaxation. But in the day crowd, there's less chance of running into a big bad, since most of the more... _troublesome_ citizens are nocturnal. He shudders when Ples Tibenoch comes to mind, and tries to shake the sound of ticking from his mind.  
He finally manages to, but it is only replaced with the actual sound of people chattering at the news stand next to him. "What a shame," a woman comments, shaking her head before going back to her wonderful little world. Hanna silently slides into the gap she leaves in the crowd surrounding the stand, trying to see what the hype is about.  
When he does, though, he can feel all of the blood draining from his face, and everything in front of his eyes explodes into white, stained only with simple black lettering:  
"MISSING CHILD FOUND DEAD; POSSIBLE ANIMAL ATTACK".

"Never heard of this city having a bear problem," a man says, handing money to the stand vendor. The vendor replies with something that makes the both of them chuckle, but Hanna tunes them out to get closer and read the entirety of the story. A pit of dread forms in his stomach even before his eyes rest on the awful description of how Joshua Tanner, age seven, had been found in the park, mutilated in a way similar to bear attack, the day before. And before he even knows what he's doing, he's going back the way he came, his feet creating a frantic pattern of sound against the sidewalk.

Within fifteen minutes of departing, he's bursting through the door of his apartment, saying, "Caelus! Get ready, we gotta go to Worth's!"  
Caelus, in the midst of tying up a trash bag, looks up in mild surprise at the sound of his red-haired companion. "Hanna? I thought you had to work."  
"I did. I'm gonna call in sick, though, something came up." As he speaks, Hanna is picking up their phone and hastily pounding on the keys. "Seriously, finish up, we're leaving as soon as I hang up."  
Caelus sets the trash bag next to the door to take out on the way and grabs at his long, dark coat and fedora; the former item was a gift from Hanna in celebration of their first Christmas together, despite it being at least another month until Christmas.  
Hanna hangs up, having given a disturbingly realistic appeal to his case of not coming into work, and looks up at Caelus, blue eyes racked with fear. "Let's go."

The walk is uneventful, filled with double-takes that they are both used to. When they reach Worth's office, located through the third unmarked door in a dark alleyway, the doctor is strangely absent from his normal position behind the cluttered desk. "Worth?" Hanna calls out, closing the door behind them with a little slam.  
There are the sounds of voices chattering in the back room and shoes clicking on tile, and a door marked with a paper slip reading "312" opens, Doc Worth stepping out in the smallest opening he can squeeze through.

One needed to only look at Worth to tell his personality. Under a dirty and mangy-looking, fur-lined coat, is a body that is incredibly thin, much like the body of a drug addict; thin and lanky, joints bent in a perpetual slouch. Hawk-like black eyes, nearly consumed by unhealthy bags, stare at Hanna and Caelus, ticked with furrowed eyebrows that only deepen the wrinkles on his forehead. "Th' fuck're you doin' here?" he growls, rubbing at his stubbled chin. "Don'che have work?"  
"Yeah, but something came up, Worth," Hanna says pleadingly, his tone making Caelus uneasy; naturally, the undead man made no indication of his emotions.  
"Somethin' always comes up, donnit? Well, y' can go off'n fuck yerself, I've got a client an-"

"_It_'s back."

All falls silent at these two simple words. Worth stops short, his eyes actually widening once the words sink in. "Y'... y'sure?"  
"Yeah. Read it in the paper. It was a kid." Hanna looks down at the floor, his hands clenched into fists as they find homes in his pockets. "They're saying it was a bear attack."  
Worth snorts incredulously, but his expression belies his attempt to sound casual as he circles to lean against the side of his desk that isn't blocked by a dead plant. "'Ey, stranger things've happened here, right? Maybe the bear wanted t' see the scenery."  
In the midst of the uncomfortable silence that follows the comment, Caelus utters the question that has been his mind for a good few minutes: "What is _It_?"  
The doctor opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by someone calling him from the 312 room. He jerks upright, looking to the door (Caelus notices that, with correct posture, the good doctor actually stands taller than him by a good inch) before audibly giving a tick of his teeth. "Look, I've got patients t'day. How 'bout ye come back tonight?"  
Hanna finally looks up, nodding dully. "Yeah." He then perks up slightly, the light reflecting off of his glasses. "Hey! Maybe I can be all official and call a meeting!"  
Worth raises an eyebrow and waves them off as he slouches once again, slowly shuffling back to the back room. "Keh. Use the phone 'f ye want, but be outta here in fifteen."

Hanna hesitates for a second after Worth disappears behind the door before bouncing over to the desk, almost forcibly, and picks up the phone from the cradle, staring at it. "Uhhh - oh, look! Conman's phone number's right here, how awesome's that?" He punches in numbers and shoots Caelus a reassuring smile that only makes the zombie more uneasy. "I promise this'll make sense tonight, Giles. Conrad, it's Hanna," he says when the answering machine picks up. "Look, as soon as you get this, come over to Worth's office. Try and bring Veser, too."  
With a look in a moldy phone book, Hanna also calls Veser and Toni's schools and leaves messages. When he's done, they've taken just a little longer than fifteen minutes, but it isn't until they've left the office that Worth's patient finally reveals itself. Drawing the hood of its raincoat over its head, it smiles at them when it passes, revealing teeth of wood before disappearing in a swirl of leaves just before it reaches the sidewalk . Hanna gasps excitedly and starts babbling about Walgeists and how it's good luck to see one, but Giles has long learned how to multi-task listening to him and thinking his own thoughts.

And his own thoughts are unusually worrisome.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **So, I started typing this and ended up going waaaaaay farther than I meant to. So, if it seems to cut off a bit suddenly, I'm sorry.

**

* * *

**

The door of Conrad Achenleck's apartment slams open and, through the closed door to the bathroom, the vampire can hear a careless teenage voice yelling, "I'm home, Fagula."

Conrad is leaning over the sink, eyes closed as he faces the mirror. He know that, when he opens them, he will see something horrific in the glass: nothing at all. His hair is still wet from the shower he has just stepped out of, droplets dripping and sliding down his face, and the only thing covering him is a towel wrapped around his abdomen.  
Hesitantly, he opens his small, red eyes. And even with his horrible vision, he can see that his fears are confirmed: there is nothing of him in the mirror, except for the towel that peeks up over the edge of the sink.  
It is truly unnerving, but also fascinating in a way; he stares at the place where his face should be for what feels like hours until he is jerked back into the real world by a fist pounding against the door. "The hell're you doing in there? Hurry up, I gotta piss."  
Conrad just sighs at the lack of tact that his roommate has before taking his glasses, putting them on, and, without looking at the mirror, opening the bathroom door.

Veser rolls his large green eyes when the vampire finally emerges, keeping his eyes locked to the wall until Conrad nearly disappears into his room. "Strange-ass."  
Conrad ignores this, closing the door to his bedroom behind him. He supposes that the first thing he really should have done was tell Veser about Hanna's phone call, but that can wait until he's appropriately dressed, anyway. He slips on some simple boxer-briefs, navy blue trousers, and a nice beige button-up shirt before grabbing an Argyle sweater-vest from his closet.  
He's pulling the sweater-vest over his head as he exits his room and makes his way to the living room. Veser's lime green shoes squeak on the title in the bathroom when he comes out of the bathroom, running a hand through his gray-brown hair as he asks, "Did Hanna call you, too? Somethin' about going to an office?"  
"Yes, we're supposed to meet him at a...n aquaintance's office." God forbid Conrad calls that man a friend.  
"Ahuh. Whatever." Veser pauses, then grins like a predator. "We get to take your car?"  
The vampire sighs, adjusting his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "...yes. Do NOT touch anything," he snaps automatically, which earns only a laugh.

Veser actually pays attention and doesn't cause too much trouble in the car, although he does have a little episode when he actually _sees_ it; a dark blue, white-striped 2008 Ford Shelby, in nearly perfect condition. "_Damn_. How much did this set you back?" he asks over the music on the radio, arm propped against the door as they pull out of the driveway.  
Conrad shrugs, a bit sheepishly. "It didn't cost _that_ much."  
"You kiddin'? I've seen Porsches that weren't as nice as this."  
"Maybe in the slums," Conrad denies, although he does give a little smile as he hits the turn signal.

When they reach and enter Worth's office, Hanna and his zombie partner (Conrad still hasn't gotten into the pattern of calling him by whatever name comes to mind) are already there, and Toni is leaning against the cleanest wall visible. She smiles and waves to the pair, and Hanna beams at them. "Hey! We were just waiting on you and Worth."  
As if summoned, the doctor storms out of the back room with a blood bag, which he absently flings at Conrad, and throws himself into his chair, which groans unhealthily as it slides across the floor. "Alright, here's the deal."  
Veser raises an eyebrow as Conrad catches the bag without any fuss.  
"We've got a problem, and a big one. Somethin' bad's coming around." Worth lights a cigarette, rubbing his shoulder. "Y've all heard 'bout the kidnappings?"  
"Is that what this is about?" Toni asks, cocking her head.  
Worth holds up a finger to hush her. "There's a reason f'r this. Hanna?"

Hanna looks up, and Conrad is stunned when he sees that the redhead, who is usually peppy and cheerful enough to give someone diabetes, looks almost terrified. "Well... alright. About five years ago... something bad came around. And... it looks like It's back."  
"Something bad?" Veser echoes, narrowing his eyes.  
"Well, we don't really know _what_ It is. But It's some kind of shapeshifter." Hanna bites his lip, eyes focusing on the floor. "It... kills kids as their worst fears. Eats them."  
"Oh my God!" Toni says, eyes widening and a hand coming up to her mouth.  
"It came after me, but we managed to fight It off. We thought we killed It, but... apparently not."

"So, what does this have to do with us?" Conrad asks after a few seconds of pause.  
Worth sighs, as thought the reason should be obvious. "It came after Hanna last time It was out. We're thinkin' It might try'n finish wot It started."  
"But you said it only kills... kids," Toni says hesitantly, swallowing at the thought of children dying at the hands of their nightmares.  
"We kinda pissed It off, though," Hanna replies, scratching the back of his head. "So who knows?"  
"We're jus' preparin'," says Worth as he stands up, the chair groaning as if relieved. "B'sides, it could be considered community service. Might get paid."  
Toni just stares at him. "Is it all about money? What about those kids?"  
A shrug of bony shoulders. "Not my problem. Y' can't save everyone."  
"I'm with Toni," Hanna pipes in, eyes scanning the room. "Sure, money's good, but if anything, I don't want any more people dying."

A silence overtakes the small room, but only for a second. As Hanna opens his mouth to say something, the door suddenly opens, and Lamont Toucey comes in backwards, balancing boxes through the narrow doorway. "Hey guys," he says, a casual but worried smile on his face as he turns around and sets the boxes down by the door before nudging it closed with his foot. "Sorry, had to make a delivery."  
Hanna gives him a grateful smile; he's realized that everything tends to be easier with Lamont around, for some reason. "No problem." The smile fades, and the redhead clears his throat. "Anyways... I, uh, did some research the last time this came around. And I think I know what It is."

Worth perks slightly. "Wot? You knew wot It was 'n di'in't tell us?"  
"Ehehe. Well, uh, it kinda slipped my mind. I just remembered it a little while ago." Conrad rolls his eyes, as if not surprised, but lets Hanna continue. "Well, anyways. I looked up all the different characteristics, and everything pretty much points to a Taelus."  
Toni raises an eyebrow. "Never heard of that before."  
"They're really really rare. Like, only one has ever been recorded outside of Stephen King using them for the main villain guy in It."  
"Is that why we're calling this thing that?" Veser asks, the first words that he's spoken in quite some time.  
"Er, yeah. I never said I was original. I see that smile, Ringo, that's three. But, basically, they're telepathic shapeshifters that feed off of pretty much anything they can get, but they prefer kids. They're really kind of interesting, actually, 'cause they're only active for a few months before they hibernate. Their hibernation varies between each kind, though."  
"So, we're looking at a killer that comes out every five years or so," Lamont says, leaning against Worth's desk. Surprisingly, the doctor doesn't kick him away like usual, but instead just gives him a warning glare.  
"Well, no. The last time it attacked - er, besides right now - it only slept for about three years. I, uh, probably should've mentioned that."  
Worth crosses over to smack Hanna upside the head. "Ye! Ye, y' _should_ have!"  
"Ow!"

Hanna's whine is joined by a echoing laugh that takes everyone by surprise. "The fuck is _that_?" Veser yells, pushing away from the wall to take a defensive posture.  
"Came from the surgery room," Worth mutters in reply, ignoring everyone's strange looks towards him to nod at Lamont. "You go in first. S'alright if somethin' eats _you_."  
"Ha ha, very funny." Lamont rolls his eyes, but still approaches the door hesitantly. Everyone starts to flock around him, waiting to see if there was any cause for concern. After a deep breath, Lamont swings the door open -

To an empty room, save for a dirty gurney and a shelf of various medical supplies.

Hanna, unaware that he is holding his breath, sighs in relief, but then tenses again as he steps the threshold into the room. Ringo follows dutifully, as always, but Hanna barely notices as his eyes travel to the drain on the floor. "It came from down there," he whispers.  
"How do you know?" Ringo asks, protectively placing a hand on a frail but broad shoulder.  
Hanna didn't answer, but something else did.


End file.
